Mance Rayder's Daughter
by MostTulip
Summary: They only met once. He was not a Night's Watchman yet. She was the daughter of Mance Rayder, but he wasn't King-Beyond-the-Wall yet. They hadn't expected to see each other ever again. On hiatus.
1. Chapter 1: Unexpected

**So, yeah. New story. Hope it's as good as I think it is. Review please.**

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><p>Unexpected<p>

Lord Eddard Stark had taken both of his sons out for a ride into the Wolfswood. He hadn't allowed them to enter the wood for a while because of all the wildlings they had been finding. The twelve year olds were excited to be allowed in there once again. Even though one was his trueborn son and heir, and the other his bastard, the two got along as if they weren't half-brothers.

They had been riding for a few hours when Jory, the captain of the household guard, stopped to investigate something. When he returned, he brought bad news. "Lord Stark, there are four wildlings nearby."

Ned couldn't help but be fearful. He did not doubt that he and Jory could take care of them, but he had his sons with him. With a sigh, he turned to them. "Boys, listen to me. I want you to wait right here. Do not move unless Jory or I tell you otherwise. Am I understood?" They nodded. "Good. Let's go."

Without another word, he rode off, Jory following. The two brothers dismounted, tethered their horses to a fallen tree, and sat down. After several minutes, Robb, the older of the two and trueborn, stood up.

"Come on." He began to walk after their father when his brother grabbed his arm and forced him to stop.

"Robb, Father said to wait here. We can't leave." His brown eyes betrayed his worry.

"What? Are you afraid of some wildlings? Father and Jory have probably killed them all by now. Jon, let's go." He ripped his arm from his brother's grasp and walked in the direction his father had gone. Jon, hesitantly, began to follow. They walked together for some minutes in silence. Suddenly, Robb put his arm out to stop Jon.

"What is it?" Jon asked.

Robb placed one finger on his lips. He began to move silently forward, disappearing into the trees. _This isn't a good idea, _Jon thought to himself. Sighing in frustration, he was about to follow when the snap of a twig made him freeze. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked around, trying to find the source.

"Alright Robb. You got me. Come out." He called. There was no answer. Jon laughed nervously. "Stop trying to scare me."

Another twig snapped, this time to his right. He whipped around and came face to face with a girl.

She was about his age, her brown hair long and wild. Her clothes were dirty and covered in mud. In her hand was a knife, pressed against Jon's neck. He gasped in fear.

"Who are you?" She asked quietly. Her green eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"Jon Snow." He said.

"Snow? You're a bastard?" She laughed as he got angry.

"Don't call me that."

"It's what you are, isn't it? A bastard?" If she wasn't holding a knife to his throat, he would have hit her. But, wisely, he refrained from doing so.

"Yes." He hissed.

She nodded her head in approval. "Of course, Snow is only given to highborn bastards. So, what lord is your parent?"

"How would you know the difference between lords? Or if I wasn't lying?" He smiled in triumph. It was short-lived, however. She grinned, pushing the knife closer to his skin, drawing blood.

"I know a lot of things, Jon Snow. Which lord?"

He hesitated, then decided that it didn't matter if she knew who his father was or not. She would probably just kill him. "Eddard Stark."

To his surprise, her eyes widened in shock. "Benjen Stark's brother?"

"Yes. Benjen is my uncle."

She backed away slowly, while staring at the ground. "Benjen Stark's nephew?" She whispered in disbelief. As fast as he could, Jon knocked her to the ground. He grabbed the knife and laid it against her throat. She smiled at him.

"What? You're going to kill a girl? Where's the honor in that?" He stared at her for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do. He'd never killed anyone before. He wasn't sure if he could now. His father would come back, but he didn't know how long that would be. Pulling her to her feet, he held her close and began to walk back the way he came.

"My father is going to come back soon. He will decide your fate." She didn't reply, just stared in front of her.


	2. Chapter 2: Captive

Captive

Robb had left his brother behind, not waiting to see if he would follow. He continued to move quietly in the direction he had seen his father and Jory going. After a few minutes, he came to a clearing. There, four wildlings lay on the ground, dead. Lord Stark and Jory stood over them, talking between each other. He must have made some sound because his father looked up from one of the bodies directly where Robb was hiding.

"Robb? What are you doing?" he asked incredulously. Robb walked out into the clearing, head down in shame at being caught. "I told you to wait for with your brother."

"I was bored. I wanted to see what was going on."

Lord Eddard put one hand on his son's shoulder. "You shouldn't have disobeyed me. We'll talk about this more when we get back. Let's go." Robb followed his father back to where he and Jon had left their horses. He hadn't realized how far away the clearing was until he looked up and saw that the sun had definitely gone down farther. It was almost sunset. They found Jon and one horse missing.

"Where's Jon?" Ned asked his son.

The panic in his father's voice scared him. "I-I don't know. He was coming with me, but he stopped. I thought he came back."

"My lord," Jory said. Ned walked over to his friend. "I don't think we killed all the wildlings."

There, lying in the mud, was one of the daggers they had seen the wildlings use. And not far was a piece of the cloak Jon had worn.

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><p>An Hour Earlier<p>

Jon had led the wildling girl back to where they had left the horses. He could see that his father hadn't returned yet. Robb's horse was still there. He stopped her. "We will wait here for my father and brother to return."

"Brother?" She scoffed. "Does Lord Stark have a _trueborn _son as well, one who isn't so much of a girl?"

Again, he was tempted to hit her. "Yes. He is Robb Stark and will be the Lord of Winterfell after my father." She heard the bitterness in his voice._  
><em>

"Oh. You're jealous of him, aren't you?" He looked at her angrily, but she continued. "He will be Lord and you will always be nothing more than a bastard, a reminder that you're father is not as honorable as everyone believes."

Suddenly, he slapped her. Her head jerked to the side. When she turned back to him, her eyes were full of shock and hatred. Her cheek was red. "Hit a sore spot, have I? Good. I hope my father skins you alive."

"There's nothing you're father can do now. You're south of the wall. If you even have a father, he's north of it, thousands of miles away." They glared at each other for some minutes. Neither was willing to back down.

She was the one who finally looked away. With a huff, she turned her head to stare into the forest. Jon nodded in satisfaction, proud of himself. It might have been because of that pride that caused him to let his guard down.

Without warning, she lunged for him, desperately trying to grab the knife. Instead, it flew out of his hand, landing a few feet away. They looked at each other once before they both ran to it.

She reached it first, but Jon ran into her. He managed to knock her down and pin her to the ground. The knife was still in her hand. She tried to stab him and, for a moment, thought she had, before there was a tearing sound and she realized that she had only managed to tear some of the cloth of his cloak. He grabbed the hand that she held the knife in. He twisted it so hard, she dropped the blade. Growling in frustration, she relented.

They both became aware of the fact that Jon was on top of her, their faces inches away. They definitely did not feel any love or lust for the other. But they were both two-and-ten. She blushed, and attempted to push him off. She didn't need to, as he quickly got up. Brushing himself off, he pulled her up.

"Get on the horse." He ordered. He wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, but he knew that he couldn't just let her stand there while they waited for his father. If he wanted to keep her captive, he needed to bring her back to Winterfell. She complied without complaining.

She sat on the horse, about to grab the reins when he got up behind her and grabbed them first. Giving her a disapproving look, he shook his head. Then, without looking back, he urged the horse forward.


	3. Chapter 3: Lost

Lost

They rode through the Wolfswood, Jon trying hard to remember the way back to Winterfell. He thought he recognized some of the areas they passed, but he wasn't sure. To stop the worry from getting out of hand, he tried to make small talk.

"So, what is your name?" She frowned at him.

"Why should I tell you my name?"

"You know mine. It's only fair that I know yours."

She sighed. "Very well, Jon Snow. I am Marissa, daughter of Mance Rayder." She said it proudly, as if he was someone well-known.

"Is he supposed to be important?" He laughed.

Turning around, she glared at him. "He will be the King-Beyond-the-Wall one day."

"Does that mean that when he dies you will be Queen-Beyond-the-Wall?" It wasn't a question to mock her; he truly wanted to know the anwer. He had never heard of Mance Rayder, or a King-Beyond-the-Wall, but he might as well learn everything he could about his enemy.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow. I could be, I guess. But I will have to prove to them that they should follow me." She sensed his confusion. "Our ways are different from yours."

"How?"

"Well, like I said, we only follow those who prove their leadership. In marriage - rather than just saying words under a weirwood - when a man wants to claim a wife, he must use his strength and cunning to steal the woman from her home, and avoid being killed by her and her kin. Our women are treated with more respect than yours. Spearwives are women that are allowed to fight, like the men. I will be one in a few years."

Though his curiosity was great, he didn't ask anything else. They continued on in silence. Jon, reluctantly, admitted to himself that he felt a certain respect towards the wildlings, as savage as they were.

He realized he must have made a wrong turn somewhere as the sun went down. _We should be back. _Marissa noticed his panic.

"What's wrong now?"

"We should be at Winterfell," he said, almost to himself.

She sighed in exasperation. "You don't know the woods very well, do you?" He growled, making her laugh. "You _must_ be Eddard Stark's son. You're more wolf than man."

He stopped the horse as the last bit of sunlight began to fade away. He tried to help her down, but she just pushed him away. "I don't need your help, Snow."

Walking over to a tree she sat down. He stared at her in confusion. Again, she laughed. "You really do know nothing, Jon Snow. Come here." He regarded her suspiciously as he came to stand beside her, leading the horse over. "Tether the horse nearby and sit down."

He tied the horse to a low-hanging tree branch, never taking his eyes off her. Marissa only smiled. When he was done, she motioned to the spot next to her. He looked at her, brows furrowed.

"It's going to get cold. We could freeze if we don't stay close." She patted the ground. Understanding, though not happy about it, he sat down next to her.

He took his cloak off and laid it on them like a blanket. To his surprise, she rested her head against his chest. Not really sure what to do, he placed his hands on her back.

"Don't worry, Snow. I'm not going to kill you in your sleep." She said, closing her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4: Found

Found

Jon was awoken by the barking of dogs. For a moment, he forgot where he was. Then it all came back and he noticed that, sometime in the night, he and Marissa had become entangled. She was laying on top of him, her breathing slow. He blushed and carefully shook her.

"Marissa. Marissa!" He hissed. With a jolt, she woke up. Like him, she didn't remember. After looking around, the memories of the previous day's events returned.

"What is it?" she asked. He didn't need to answer. There were more barks, these ones closer. Understanding dawned in her eyes. Fear gripped her as she realized that her death was probably less than a mile away.

"Listen to me. My father won't execute you. He's a just man. He'll just keep you-"

"You don't understand Jon!" She whispered frantically, as if the dogs were right next to them. "I'm a wildling. The northerners hate wildlings. _They will kill me_."

He didn't know why he was trying to help her, but suddenly, he pulled her up. Half-walking, half-running, he led her to the horse. Quickly, he untied the reins.

"Snow, what are you doing?"

He lifted her up and onto the horse and placed the reins in her hands. "I won't let them kill you." Again, he wondered why he was doing this. She was supposed to be the enemy, yet here he was, helping her. "Take this horse and ride to the Wall. Don't stop. Just ride."

There was a look of disbelief in her eyes, but understanding came. She nodded. "I won't forget this Jon Snow." She turned the horse and prepared to ride but stopped and looked back. "I hope we meet again."

"I do too, Marissa Rayder," he found himself saying. Through it all, he'd come to like the wildling girl. She smiled sadly and rode away.

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><p>Ned had spent most of the morning looking for his son. His lady wife hadn't been happy about it, saying that he was a bastard and not important. He had replied that Jon was his blood and he wouldn't let him die.<p>

"Do you think we'll find him?" He heard a voice ask from behind him. Looking around, he saw Robb. The young lad was worried for his half-brother.

Before he could answer, the cry of "my lord, here" was heard. Turning to where the men were calling, he urged his horse forward. Robb followed.

The horses ran through the trees until they found the others. Jon was standing by the others, a sad look in his eyes. _Alone, _Ned noted. But he didn't have time to think about it as all of his stress and worries were forgotten.

"Jon!" Ned called, dismounting and running to his son. He held him in a bone-crushing hug. Relief was short-lived when he let go as Robb hugged his brother in an equally painful grip.

"What happened?" Jory asked. "We thought you were taken by a wildling."

"I was," Jon answered. Ned sensed that there was a double meaning to his words, but didn't dwell on it. All that mattered was that his son was alive.

"Let's go back to Winterfell." Lord Stark said. He didn't fail to notice how Jon threw one last sad look into the trees before following.


	5. Chapter 5: Beyond the Wall

Beyond the Wall

Marissa wandered the wildling camp, heading towards her father's tent. The cold bit at her exposed face, numbing her cheeks and making them flush red. Most days they found that the sun was in the sky less and the air was colder than it was before.

She had proved to be a great spearwife, as she had told the bastard she had met on her first trip south. Being the daughter of the King-Beyond-the-Wall also got her a certain amount of recognition. But she couldn't care less. As long as the Free Folk were willing to follow her and her father, she didn't care how much she was recognized.

The White Walkers were becoming very dangerous. Every day, they lost many in their trip to the Wall. _We need to get over the Wall. Perhaps, when we move past Winterfell, I will find a certain bastard there._

A group of children ran past her, laughing. She couldn't help but smile. She enjoyed children and, sometimes, wished she had her own. However, that would require lying with a man who (no matter how much she tried to tell herself that it would never happen) wasn't Jon Snow. She felt silly for even thinking such a thing. The bastard haunted her. Sometimes, when she would lay awake at night, she would wonder if perhaps in the morning she would wake up back in the forest from so long ago. But, again those thoughts were stupid. He was south of the Wall, she was north of it.

Quite a few men had tried to take her as a wife. But all that had tried had failed. So far, no man had managed to get past her or her father. Most were stopped by Mance. The rest . . . well, she took care of them. Many just assumed it may have been just that she didn't want to be married to anyone. She would never admit her real reason for not giving them a chance.

Word was spreading through the camp like wildfire of a crow that had deserted and was looking to join the Free Folk. It was for that reason that she made her to her father's tent. Even if he hadn't wanted her to be there, she would have come anyway. Crows were a rare sight nowadays for her. Most were dead or had been dead.

Outside the tent, she found a fellow spearwife. "Hello Ygritte." She said cheerfully. The red-headed spearwife smiled at her. The two had become friends quickly when her father gathered the Free Folk. "Were you the one that captured the crow?"

"I was. A true kneeler, that one. Thought Tormund was your father. But he's motivated to become one of us. He killed Qhorin Halfhand," Ygritte said as she walked by. In her hands was a sword with a wolf head for a hilt. She threw it to Marissa. "The crow's sword," was all she said. The news surprised Marissa. The Halfhand was one of the best men of the Night's Watch. From what she had heard, this new crow was fairly young. _How could someone as legendary as the Halfhand been killed by a boy?_

She entered the tent. Ignoring all the others, she walked over to her where her father stood. She couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity as she looked the crow over. He had dark curls and a handsome face. Something about his eyes made her think she had met this one before. _Impossible. All the crows I've met I've killed._

Obviously, her father had already passed his decision. "We'll need to find you a new cloak," he said. Looking at her, he smiled and put one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She got the feeling that someone was watching her. Turning back to the crow, she found him staring at her. Again, she got the urge that she had seen this man before. Her father caught him staring at her, too.

"Don't go trying to take her for yourself, crow. This one is more precious to me than anything else. She'd kill you before you could even touch her. It wouldn't be the first time." Seeing as the crow continued to stare, confused as well, he elaborated. "This is my daughter, Marissa."

The crow's reaction was not something she had expected. Before, he had looked at her like he couldn't tell where he had seen her before. Now, there was utter disbelief written all over his face. Have _we truly met?_

"Marissa," her father's voice made her tear her gaze away from the crow. Looking at him, he nodded his head in the crow's direction. "This is the Halfhand's killer. Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark."

Suddenly, she knew where she had seen this crow before. _Of course I haven't killed him. He wasn't a crow the last time I saw him. _Her face must have betrayed her emotions. Even Tormund Giantsbane, a man she considered to be like an uncle, was surprised by the absolute shock in her face.

"What is it?" her father asked.

"N-nothing. I'll help him find a new cloak," she said quickly to her father. Mance nodded. Grabbing onto Snow's arm, she practically dragged him outside. She led him to a secluded area not far. Pulling her dagger from her belt, she placed it against his throat. _This is a familiar sight._

"Why are you here?" she growled. Whether she was doing this out of anger or just because she felt obliged to, she didn't know.

"What are you doing?" He didn't seem hurt over her threatening to kill him. _He remembers too._

"I don't believe whatever story you told my father. You were raised by Eddard Stark. You may have been a bastard, but I know that it would take something very important to make you break your vows. What are you doing here?"

There was a flicker of some emotion in his eyes. She couldn't tell what it was before it was gone. "If I tell you, you'll just kill me."

"How do you know I won't just kill you now?" She pushed the dagger closer to his throat.

"If you were going to just kill me, you would have already." He felt no fear towards her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. You will tell me the truth. No matter what it is, you will tell me. I won't kill you. You saved my life, I am in your debt. So I will repay it this way."

He didn't say anything. This agitated her. "Talk!" she yelled.

"I will if you take that away from my neck," he said, pointing at her dagger. Frustrated, she reluctantly sheathed it again at her waist.

"You want the truth? Alright. I'm doing my duty." She shook her head in disbelief.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm doing what I vowed to do." She got the feeling that this was the only answer he was going to give her.

She sighed in exasperation. "Come on. We'll get you a new cloak. You're no longer a crow, Jon Snow."


	6. Chapter 6: Hopelessly in Love?

Hopelessly in Love?

Marissa was still unsure about Jon Snow. She knew that there was something he wasn't telling her. But she couldn't dwell on it. Her father needed her to be at her best, and that was what she planned to be. She tried to tell herself that she felt nothing for him, that she only helped him because having a crow that had been close to the Lord Commander would be useful.

No matter how many times she told herself that, however, some part of her still believed it was a lie. That was especially obvious when Ygritte was with him. She had been friends with the other spearwife for a while now. But every time the red-head talked to Snow, she felt a sudden need to throw her to the White Walkers.

Mance had noticed her behavior around the Night's Watch deserter, too.

"You and the crow . . ." he began one night as they sat around the fire.

"What about the crow?" She countered.

"I've noticed that you two have gotten . . . close." She stared down at the fire, unwilling to meet her father's gaze. "I've also noticed that Ygritte has taken a liking to him."

"Yeah, she has," Marissa spat. The venom she spoke with shocked her.

"Hmm. Well, I saw how well you two got along when he first joined us. And I was wondering, as you seemed to recognize him, if you have met him before." When she looked up at her father's face, she could see how serious he was.

"I have met him once before."

"Oh, and where was this?"

"My first trip south of the Wall. He was in the woods outside of Winterfell. He saved my life." The memory made her smile.

"And did anything happen when you met him?" She suddenly found herself feeling hostile. _He has no right to pry into my life like this._

"Why? What does it matter?" she snapped. Standing up, she walked out, leaving her father alone.

She walked around, lost in thought. _Why did I do that? He is my father. Why is it that Jon Snow shows up and suddenly I can't think straight?_


	7. Chapter 7: One of Them Now

**This chapter (and probably all others to come for some time) was difficult to write. I wanted to base it off the TV show storyline and I thought that would be easy. Except I don't have HBO or HBO Go and YouTube has been kind of useless _and _I've been a bit busy. So, if I skip out anything and you think that should be a part of the story, please let me know and I'll see what I can do.**

**Anyway, I do hope this is a good chapter.**

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><p>One of Them Now<p>

Jon Snow had never forgotten that day in the Wolfswood when he had met Marissa, daughter of the future King-Beyond-the-Wall. Though it wasn't something that he thought about every second of every day, it did come up a lot over the years.

He'd told no one about the wildling princess, not even Robb. He wasn't sure when his hatred for her had become a longing. He had actually spent a lot of time considering what might have happened if he hadn't given her the horse. His father had been a just and honorable man, surely he wouldn't have killed a girl for the crime of being a wildling, something she had no control over? _Would he have punished her like Lady Catelyn did me?__  
><em>

Lady Stark had blamed him for his father's mistake. It wasn't like he had asked to be born a bastard. He hated that she blamed him for it.

When he had heard about Mance Rayder, the so-called King of the wildlings, he had felt excited. _When I become a ranger, I'll find Marissa again. _Of course, not long after he joined, reality set in. She was a wildling. If he were to meet her beyond the Wall, she probably wouldn't remember him. He would be expected to kill her. That idea, for some reason, made him almost reluctant to remain with the Night's Watch.

Against all odds, he now found himself with the very girl he had never thought to see again. Their reunion (if it could even be called that) had consisted of her holding a blade up to his neck and threatening to kill him. _Great way to meet again._

Despite her threats, she spent a great amount of time in his presence. At some times, it seemed she would do it out of pure wanting. Usually when he would ask her about that, she would claim she did only to keep an eye on him. She was still suspicious of where his loyalties lay. But he didn't fail to notice how every time the red-headed spearwife, Ygritte, would speak with him, Marissa would look at her with such a loathing, he wondered what it was that kept her from killing the other woman.

It was under those circumstances that he found himself in at that moment. He and Ygritte had been talking, mostly about her people and their ways, when Marissa joined them.

She threw Ygritte a frosty glare and said, "Tormund wants to see you." The red-head nodded and left, giving Jon one last smile. Marissa's eyes bore into her back for a few minutes before turning back to him. Her gaze seemed to soften when she looked at him.

"Come on. My father wanted to speak with you." She turned around and walked away. Jon had no choice except to follow her.

She led him past all the moving wildlings, moving with ease through the crowd and the snow, as if she knew the layout by heart. _She probably does, _he thought to himself.

If you only looked once, it would be hard to tell that she was a wildling princess. She dressed like everyone else: breeches, boots, and animal furs to keep her warm. On her hip, there were two daggers, one of which she had almost used to cut his throat. On her back was a sword, smaller than Longclaw, but deadly all the same. She had the green eyes of a cat, taking in every movement, studying everything, waiting for a chance to strike. _Almost like the Lannisters. But her eyes are darker and more trusting. _On a closer glance, it became much more obvious.

She carried herself with confidence, but not arrogance. She was cautious, careful and calculating. She could speak the Old Tongue as easily as the Common Tongue. He guessed that she could probably read and write, as well. She was dangerous with her weapons, perhaps more so than most. And the others, whether they liked her or not, followed her with a kind of loyalty. She commanded them almost as much as her father did.

And if that wasn't enough, Ghost had taken a serious liking to her before Jon sent his direwolf away.

They found Mance not long after, and father and daughter shared a few words before the King-Beyond-the-Wall turned to him. Marissa slowed down so as to walk behind them, keeping her distance but staying close enough to hear their words. They stopped and watched as the Free Folk continued on through the snow ridden land.

"Was it hard for you to kill the Halfhand?" Mance asked from next to him.

Jon looked away before answering. "Yes."

"You liked him?" Jon nodded, not trusting his words. The memory was one he would rather forget but knows that he can't.

"I like you but if you're plan is false it won't be hard for me to kill you. I've got wildling blood in my veins, and so does Marissa." They both turned to look back at her. She was watching the Free Folk as they passed, though Jon did not doubt she had heared everything they said. "These are our people."

"I understand," Jon said.

"Well how could you understand?" They stopped walking and Jon faced him.

"You want to protect your people."

"Do you know what it takes to unite ninety clans, half of whom want to massacre the other half over one insult or another? They speak seven different languages in my army. The Thenns hate the Hornfoots, the Hornfoots hate the Ice River clans. Everyone hates the Cave people. So, you know how I got moon worshippers and cannibals and giants to march together in the same army?"

"No," he said. There was disbelief in his voice. It was hard to imagine one man being able to do that._  
><em>

"I told them we were all going to die if we don't get south. Because that's the truth." Mance walked past him. He stared after him, looking once back at Marissa who had come to stand beside him, before he followed. He was lead up a hill, to where Tormund Giantsbane and Ygritte stood, staring up into the sky. Next to them sat Orell, his eyes completely white, gazing blankly into the sky at a bird.

"Shouldn't be long now," Tormund stated as they joined them.

"What's wrong with him?" Jon asked.

"He's a warg, a man that can enter the mind of an animal and see through their eyes. There are many beyond the Wall. He's scouting for us." Marissa answered him, gesturing to the bird.

"What, you've never met a warg?" Ygritte said, a mocking edge to her voice. Marissa glowered at the other woman. Jon didn't say anything, just watched Orell.

"Orell," Mance called. The wildling sucked in a breath, blinking a few times, then closing his eyes. When he opened them, they were normal again.

"Where were you this time?" Mance asked quietly, he and Tormund leaning in close.

He didn't answer at first, breathing hard and looking down before meeting their eyes. "The Fist of the First Men," he finally said. Jon felt dread clutch at his heart.

"What did you see?"

Orell looked at him, letting out a small laugh. "Dead crows."

He did his best not to betray any emotion, but it was difficult. He was angry and sad and scared all at once, though he suspected that only anger was truly showing on his face. _They're dead. The others are dead. Maybe some escaped. Maybe Sam and Grenn and Pyp and the Lord Commander escaped. What could have killed them? _All these thoughts raced through his mind, and he hadn't realized that he had been standing there for awhile until a hand touched his shoulder. Looking around, he saw that all the others, save Marissa, had left.

"I know that they were your brothers, Jon. I know that, even if you are a turncloak, they will always be your brothers. I'm sorry." Her words were few, but they gave him comfort all the same.

Nodding his thanks, he turned and began walking back down the hill, to where the Free Folk carried on.


	8. Chapter 8: The Fist of the First Men

**Finally! I've found a way to watch the show! I can update this more often. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm excited to be writing this again.**

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><p>The Fist of the First Men<p>

"You like him," Tormund murmured to her. Marissa shot him a dark look, eliciting a chuckle from him. They were following her father, she, Ygritte, Jon, Tormund and Orell. They were at the Fist of the First Men and had yet to see any crows, dead or alive. Tormund's voice had been low, but this subject was still too personal for them to be discussing this close to the others.

"Shut up," she replied. He stepped closer, so they were walking shoulder to shoulder. He held onto her arm, slowing them both down. Her father looked over at them, a question on his face. Tormund nodded at him, and her father kept walking. The others did the same, staring at them oddly, but neither gave any one else an explanation.

They continued walking at their slow pace, and Tormund began speaking. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Why would I get hurt?" she asked.

"Because we don't know where his loyalties lie. For now, it appears he's one of us. For now, he's free. But later, when we attack the Wall, do you think he'll be so loyal to us when we start killing his brother? Men he knew?" It unnerved her how she had thought the same. Jon was not the kind to just switch sides easily. They had no way of knowing what was going on in his head.

But she defended him all the same, because that's what friends did. _Lovers do too, _a small voice in her head whispered. She shook it off. "He's one of us. He will not betray us."

"Betray us? Or betray you?" She sucked in a breath at Tormund's words, caught off guard by the sudden question. He continued. "Do you think I'm as blind as all the others? Your father can see it, same as me. So can Ygritte. We've seen the looks you give him, the way you want to spend as much time as possible around him. You want, I think you even love him. You don't want him to betray us because it will hurt you more than any of the others. It burns to have someone you love betray you."

He had placed a hand on her shoulder. Now she jerked away from him. "He _will not _betray us," she repeated, though whether she was trying to convince him or herself was unknown.

Tormund smiled at her defiance. "I've seen how he looks at you, too." His words were soft, almost a whisper, and she stopped in her tracks. He turned to her. "I think he is in love with you too. And why wouldn't he be? Any man would be lucky to have you. But whatever feelings he has for you might not be enough to stop him. We can pray all we want to the gods that you can stop him, but be prepared. And be careful. I don't want him to hurt you."

He walked away, leaving her in the swirling snow. He was right about it all, and she should have been paying attention to all of that, but all she could think about was that Jon probably shared her feelings.

Marissa hurried to catch up to the others, trying her best to focus on the problem at hand. There had been dead crows here when Orell warged into his eagle and now there weren't. She knew where they had gone. Oh yes, she knew. So did her father and Tormund. But they had to be sure.

When she joined them again, there were bodies of dead horses all around them. And not whole horses; halves, parts, heads. They were frozen and the snow had begun to bury them. They stopped at what appeared to be the center of the massacre.

Her father kneeled down. She and Tormund both stood at either side of him. Mance gazed at the bodies. "Always the artists," he muttered. As she looked down, Marissa noticed that the bodies were not placed randomly. They were in a shape, one she couldn't see without being in the sky, but there was a pattern.

They had gathered around her father now. "It's only horses," Jon said, standing beside Mance. "No men."

Ygritte addressed Orell, fear in her face. "You said there were dead crows."

"There was." Ygritte looked down, seemingly surprised by this news. Marissa fought down the urge to scoff. Of course there _had _been dead crows.

"How many men were here?" Her father asked Jon. There was a weary resignation in his voice, like he knew there would be bad news. And there would be. _Winter is coming _were the Starks' famous words, and those words had never rung truer.

"About three hundred," he answered. Marissa felt fear creeping up her spine. _Three hundred, _she thought, _gods and they had no way of knowing what they were facing._

"And you know what those men are now?"

Jon looked at her father, nodding. His eyes met hers and they reflected the same emotion: fear.

"All the same, the meat for their army," her father continued, obviously referring to the White Walkers.

"Do you think anyone got away?" Marissa was aware Jon had friends in the Night's Watch, had men he truly considered to be brothers. He could only hope that a few had escaped the horrors that had occurred here.

"It's not impossible. You don't go far betting against Mormont. But dead or alive, he took a big gamble going North. And he lost. The best fighting men are dead. And whether he's Lord Commander of the Night's Watch or a blue-eyed corpse, he's a long way from home." Her father turned away from Jon then, calling to Tormund.

"Climb the Wall. Take Orell and twenty good men. And take this one," he gestured to Jon, "he knows Castle Black's defenses better than any of us. If he's useful, good. If not, throw him off the Wall. See if crows can fly." Marissa felt an eerie sense of horror. It was like her father to do something like this, but she cared for Jon. She didn't want to know if crows could fly.

"We're finally going to war, old friend?" Tormund asked, eager to take the first step in their mission.

"Find me at Castle Black. When I give the signal, hit them in the night." She saw Jon stare at the ground, a thoughtful look on his face. "They've got a big old wall to hide behind but it only guards one side." The two men embraced. Marissa couldn't share their joy, although she faked it well enough when Tormund hugged her too.

"We'll meet again."

"Aye. If you do your job."

"How will we see the signal?" Orell asked as her father began walking back to their people.

"Send your eagle above the Wall every night," Mance was shouting over the howling winds. "When it's time, I'm going to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen."

Tormund chuckled. He turned to Jon and Orell. "Let's go, you two. We need to find twenty other good men."

"Tormund!" Marissa called to his back, having made up her mind. He stopped to listen to her, a little confused at what she could have to say. "I'm going with you."

"No," he replied immediately. "Your father needs you here-"

"My father doesn't need me here. He's handling everything-"

"He needs your help in keeping order-"

"It's my choice!" She shouted, frustrated at his reluctance to let her join. She stepped close to him. "I'm not a little girl anymore. I've climbed the Wall before. I've fought before. You need loyal men. Why not a loyal woman, too?"

Tormund finally seemed to accept that nothing he said could change her mind. He couldn't stop her, there were no laws saying that she couldn't go. And there was no way he would fight or hurt her. "Fine," he spat, "but if you get hurt, I won't be the one to tell your father why."


	9. Chapter 9: Here We Go

**This chapter is not a scene from the show. I decided instead I would write an entire chapter dedicated to Jon x Marissa. Their relationship needs to be developed a little more before the end of Season 3 is reached. Also because adapting scenes from the show is difficult and I wanted a break. So enjoy and review.**

**And just so you know, Marissa is actually named after my best friend. The two are nothing alike, but I love them both.**

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><p>Here We Go<p>

Marissa could feel the way he stared at her now, could see it too. He wanted her. And (despite how much she had tried to tell herself that it wasn't real, only because she knew him and he helped her) she felt the same.

And it aggravated her to no end. She was in love with Jon Snow, that much was clear. But did Jon love her? Did he simply see her as a bedwarmer? Lust or love? What were his feelings for her?

Of course, her uncertainty in his feelings for her wasn't the only thing that was irritating. Ygritte's endless flirting was getting on her nerves, especially now that she understood what Jon meant to her. She would not let Ygritte have him. And Ygritte could see. Already, she was winning their little game. Jon preferred the company of Marissa to Ygritte, whether it be because he simply enjoyed being around her or was trying to bed her (although this she doubted, for he was much too honorable for that), it didn't really matter. Not to her. Still, her heart burned with jealousy every time she saw them together. Whatever true feelings he held for her, Jon liked Ygritte, too, and she was trying to take advantage of that.

She wanted him. Gods, she did. At night she would dream of him. She would dream about when they first met, when they were children. She would dream about the second time they met, when he was brought into their camp and welcomed by her father. And she would dream of things that hadn't happened, things that left her aching for him. Oh yes, she was in love with him.

There were some nights, when she couldn't sleep, that she would fantasize about things. Her favorite one was where she and Jon had been found that day when he saved her. Lord Stark, after listening to his son plead for her life, would relent and accept her as a ward. Whether this would bring war or peace between the southern Northerners and the Free Folk didn't matter to her, not in her dream. As they grew older, she and Jon would become closer. They would share a bond he didn't have with any of his siblings.

And one night, they would be lying breathless beneath the trees, near where they had first met, when he would turn on his side and look at her. One of his hands would be cupping her jaw, his thumb rubbing her cheek. She would say _what? _and he would smile and lean forward and immediately she would wake up from her fantasy and feel like a stupid little girl. The White Walkers were rising, she had to help her father get their people south of the Wall, and she was daydreaming about something that could never ever happen. That _hadn't _happened.

That didn't stop her from seeking him out one night.

It was colder than usual, which had many on edge. When it became cold like this, the Walkers were almost always behind the corner.

Anyway, it was freezing and Tormund didn't need her for planning or anything else. She had crossed over to where Jon slept, thankful that, for once, Ygritte seemed to be far away from him. The only sleeping furs there were his.

Carefully, trying her best not to wake him, she slid in beside him. Her hopes that he wouldn't wake were for nothing. She should have realized that he was ready to wake up when anything was wrong. A mysterious body moving next to him was no exception.

He sat up, one hand reaching for his sword before he saw that it was her. He laid down again, but continued to stare at her.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered angrily.

"I was cold," she said innocently, with a shrug of her shoulders. He glared at her.

"If Tormund were to find you here, he would kill me."

"Tormund won't care where I've gone. He knows that I'll be back in the morning." They were facing each other. There was a small distance between them. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. He didn't shy away, like she expected him to, but he did flinch a little. Seeing this as a good sign, she moved closer, until they were against one another.

She wrapped her arms around his torso and laid her head just below his collarbone, savoring the feel of the muscles in his chest beneath her cheek. He placed his arms on her back awkwardly, as if unsure what to do.

"I would have thought that a lord's son like you, and one with your looks, would have slept with many women before," she murmured. The thought brought on a wave of jealousy that she tried to push away. She didn't even know if he liked her in that way; she couldn't go around acting as if he was hers.

"One of my brothers said something similar to that once." His voice was amused, but there was a sadness in it, too.

Looking up at him, she asked, "So, how many women have you bedded?" It was an attempt to turn the topic away from his time in the Night's Watch as best she could.

"None," he answered her, gazing straight into her eyes.

She pulled back, surprised by his answer. "None? Not one girl? Ever?"

Shaking his head, he let a small smile play on his lips. "Never."

"Why?"

He turned away from her. "Didn't want to father any bastards," he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders.

There was hurt and sadness so deep, she thought that they could drown in it. He had never lain with a woman because he didn't want to risk bringing another child into this world with his surname; into a world where it would have been shunned, just like its father.

One of her fingers traced the skin on his chest. "You know, we're North of the Wall now. There are no bastards here. Children are not blamed for anything their father's did."

He grabbed her hand, encompassing it in his own. When she dared to look at his face, he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. He wasn't rejecting her, but neither was he accepting her. Still, she decided to go as far as she could.

"If you were to father any children, they would be cared for. You could build a life with us." _With me, _she wanted to add, though refrained from doing so.

She placed her free hand back on his chest. His breathing was becoming irregular, just like hers. A spark of excitement flashed in her mind. She slid it up to above his heart, and felt it pounding against his ribs.

"Would you like to do that? Live with us for the rest of your life, free from the shame of being named Snow?" she whispered, tilting her face up so their mouths were almost touching.

He made no sound, just let go of her hand. She felt disappointed, convinced that she read the signs wrong. Until he held her face in both hands and pressed their lips together. She gasped, surprised by his actions. No matter how many times she had wanted it - _dreamed _of it - there was nothing to prepare her for it.

His lips were soft and warm and just everything that she wanted. _Gods, he's kissing me, _she couldn't help but think to herself. All this time that she had been so unsure, so hesitant, and he had wanted her just as much as she had him. _And gods, I'm an idiot._

They had to break apart to breathe. That was probably the part she hated most - the breathing. She would have preferred it if they didn't have to breathe, if they never had to break apart. Of course, the gods were never that kind. So she had to settle for this break between kisses.

Jon laid kisses to her jaw, down her throat. She gasped, biting down moans that threatened to spill from her lips. He just chuckled at her attempts, sucking at a spot near her collarbone. Her fingers tangled in his curls on impulse.

"Never been with a girl before, hmm?" she murmured, smiling softly. He kissed her lips again

"No, never."

"Then how come you're such a good kisser?" It was a joke, she didn't mean it seriously. Although she was curious how he could be so good when he'd never been with a girl like he said.

He grinned mischievously, hands going down to hold her hips in place. "Does it matter? Maybe its just natural for me. Or maybe you've never been kissed by anyone good before?"

She affectionately hit his shoulder. "What? You think I would let just about anyone kiss me? You'd be very wrong in that."

"Then how come I'm the best? Hmm?" Even if she had an answer for him, she would be unable to give it to him. He had kissed her, tongue slipping into her mouth. She didn't bother arguing or saying anything else. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

When she slipped her hand under his shirt - feeling his cool skin against her fingertips - he stopped her. He broke away from her, shaking his head slightly. Her confusion must have shown on her face because he explained quietly, "Not yet. Just - not yet."

It was easy to understand why he wouldn't want to do it yet; comprehending it was difficult. He still needed to adjust to the fact that here, being a bastard didn't matter, that he could steal her and she would not be shamed by it. But why he still wouldn't do it was the hard part.

She was pretty enough. She was willing (she was wanton, for crying out loud). She wanted _him, _and only him. They could be dead tomorrow and he wanted to wait?

But she didn't fight him on it. Not now, when they had just revealed their emotions to one another. So she sighed in frustration, and laid her head against his chest. "I'm still gonna sleep here tonight," she said stubbornly.

He only hummed in answer, playing lightly with her hair. That was how she fell asleep - Jon Snow's arms wrapped around her, held against his chest. Mayhaps he had something to do with it, but she had no dreams that night. Why would she? All her dreams were reality now.

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><p><strong>AN: Let me know what you think of this chapter. I'm not very good at writing romance-type parts. So please, tell me if it was good or bad.**


	10. Author's Note

To all those that followed and/or favorited this story, and anyone who just generally likes it:

I will be deleting Mance Rayder's Daughter. Temporarily. It was supposed to be based mainly off the TV show, but because of the way the plot of the show is headed (and also for my own reasons), there are several things I need to change. And at first I just thought about changing some chapters and continuing on. But now I've decided to rewrite most of what has been written so far, with the same main idea.

So there. I'll take the story down in about a week or two. It'll probably be under a new title, with a different summary. There will be a note in the summary letting you all know that it's the newer version. And I'll have a note on my profile page.

Thank you all for being here so far, and I hope to see many of you in the improved version. Until then.

MostTulip.

UPDATE 5/2/15: I know, I know. It's been more than two weeks and it hasn't been deleted. Basically, lots of stuff has been happening in real life and I don't want to delete the story until I have the first chapter to post. Which I don't. I will update sometime. Might be a few weeks more. I'll try to get it written soon :)


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